Third grade was made memorable by a fellow Bosconian. His name was Roderick Flores. In August of that school year, he rescued two younger scouts from drowning. He saved them, but lost his own life.
For third graders, this kind of death wasn’t something we had words for. It came as silence in the corridors, as teachers speaking more gently than usual, as a flag lowered to half-mast. We learned about heroism not from books or movies, but from someone who had once walked the same halls, worn the same DBTC patch on his chest, and lived by something greater than himself.
Third grade changed us. It taught us that bravery is not loud. It is a quiet choice to put others first. Being a Bosconian was not just about following rules, standing straight, or being a gentleman, but about forming character—about becoming, not just behaving.
We were only in third grade, but that year we grew up a little faster and learned what some adults never do.
